


No Mistakes

by TerraMacMillan



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 05:57:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4510419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerraMacMillan/pseuds/TerraMacMillan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Erskine's serum cured all of Steve's illnesses and ailments, but there was one thing –to Steve's immense surprise- that it didn't cure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Mistakes

After what seemed like month's worth of debriefings, medical exams, reports, and planning, Steve, Bucky, and the soldiers rescued from Schmidt's base were finally able to take time off to breathe and relax. It wouldn't last long; in less than forty eight hours, Steve and his new team would be heading back into the fray, hunting down Schmidt and his followers and destroying every single Hydra base in the process.

But for the time being, they could relax. Steve didn't know the meaning of the word. Before undergoing Dr. Erskine's experiment, he had contended with chronic pain, asthma, and all of his other numerous ailments and illnesses from the day he was born. After the experiment, he had almost immediately taken on being Captain America and touring around the country, performing in musical halls and vaudeville houses for the gain of politicians. Being a dancing monkey had been far from relaxing.

No, Steve Rogers had never truly relaxed. The closest he had ever been were the nights that he and Bucky would spend in their apartment enjoying each other's company; the nights when they weren't taking women out dancing or to dinner. Those nights had been fairly rare, of course. Two young bachelors were expected to be out regularly, treating ladies to a nice evening and looking for a potential wife. Steve's health issues and size often kept him from getting dates, and those had he did go on were dates that Bucky set him up on, so it was more often than not that Bucky went out while Steve stayed home.

On those frequent nights, Steve would usually be in bed by the time Bucky returned home. Bucky would quickly change into his night clothes and slip into bed next to Steve, leaving the bed on the opposite wall empty, more decoration for guests than actual functional furniture.

"How was your date?" Steve would ask sleepily, with just a hint of aggravation, as Bucky gently roused him awake with feather-light touches and gentle kisses.

"It was alright. I would have preferred to have you there." He would answer, pulling Steve closer to him and working his kisses upwards from Steve's neck to his mouth. They knew what they were doing was wrong. Doctors and the Church had long since explained to the world that feelings like theirs were a sickness. Steve and Bucky had resigned themselves to that. It didn't make it hurt any less for either of them to see the other with a beautiful and –in Bucky's case- very interested woman.

Steve would break away and ask, "Did Doris enjoy herself?" Doris, Ellen, Rebecca, Mary, Catherine, Jane… Steve always remembered their names.

Bucky would sigh, "I think so…"

"She was nice?"

"Yes. She's a charming lady. She'll make a good wife to a lucky guy one day." Bucky always said the same thing.

Steve would scoot closer to Bucky, allowing the larger man to envelope him completely in a secure embrace. No more words would be spoken, but there was an understanding between them that affirmed that Bucky would most certainly not be that man. He would, perhaps, take her on one or two more dates in order to gently relay his disinterest, using that sweet-as-honey silver tongue of his to assure the young woman in question that the fault was with him alone. Occasionally, he would clandestinely point her in the direction of another available young man, usually a friend, thus making him directly responsible for at least five of the weddings that he and Steve received invitations to between 1940 and 1942.

No matter how many dates it took, Bucky would manage to leave his potential suitor slightly disappointed but in no great distress, and return home to Steve. Sometimes they would exchange one or two gentle kisses before settling in and sleeping; other times they would take as much time as they could to explore each other in every way they could think of before Steve's lungs became wheezy and Bucky forced them to stop.

Every night during boot camp, Steve would fall asleep remembering Bucky's embrace. Every night he would drift off thinking off Bucky's smell, the gentle affirmations of love that Bucky would whisper into his ear, and the way that Bucky would nuzzle into his neck before drifting off to sleep himself. Steve hated having him gone; his heart had shattered when Colonel Phillips told him that Bucky was missing. The very thought that he would never see Bucky again had been devastating. He had held his composure as best as he could, but Steve had been on the verge of breaking down into tears before he was overtaken by the rage of knowing that no search and rescue plan would been made.

But Steve Rogers had always been a fighter. From the moment he entered the world, premature and sickly, Steve had fought for every breath, every movement, everything he had ever had.

For two days, however, Steve didn't have to worry about fighting. For those two short days, he could truly try to relax, "Steve!" Bucky's voice called as the door to their private room (which many of the men saved from Schmidt's base insisted they be given) swung open, "They're setting up a film down in the mess. Come on!"

"Which film?" Steve asked, standing from his place on his bed. He saw Bucky's eyes widen slightly as he did so. Bucky had yet to fully process how much taller he had become, though he didn't know that, "Buck?"

Bucky shook his head slightly and quickly replied, "The Wizard of Oz. You like that one." Steve nodded. His mother had read him _The Wonderful Wizard of Oz_ when he was a child and while it hurt that she hadn't been able to see the film with him, it remained one of his favorites.

Steve smiled, "That sounds great. I'll be right down."

Nodding, Bucky replied, "I'll save you a seat in the back." Steve nodded back. Bucky flashed him a smile and raced out of the doorway.

Letting out a breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding, Steve stared at the now-empty doorway. It had been a shock, to say that least, when he realized that he still had feelings for Bucky after Dr. Erskine's experiment turned him into a super soldier. At first, he thought it had been just a memory of feeling that way, but it had quickly become clear that that wasn't the case. He loved Bucky Barnes just as much as 'Steve Rogers, Captain America' as he did as 'just plain old Steve Rogers'. He couldn't believe it when he realized the truth. Doctors said feelings like his were a sickness. The Church had as well, many times over. As had every church Steve had come across in his life. Shouldn't the experiment have cured him, as it had all of his other illnesses? It took weeks of silently obsessing over it until he had begun to think that maybe the doctors and the Church and the other churches and society were all mistaken. Maybe he wasn't sick. Maybe… Maybe he and Bucky and the people like them were just different. Different wasn't so bad, was it?

Those months without Bucky had been torture. He wondered what Bucky would think when he told him; mostly he worried that Bucky wouldn't believe him. Of course, Steve knew that Bucky felt the same way as he did, but hearing him say those words –hearing him contradict absolutely everything they'd ever known or believed- might possibly be too much.

Swallowing hard, Steve pushed the thought to the back of his mind and made his way down to the mess hall. He'd worried and fretted over those fears for so long; in that moment, he just wanted to watch one of his favorite films with his best friend and worry about _that_ talk later.

The building seemed empty as he made his way down, but the chatter from the mess hall reached his newly perfect ears from the other end of the corridor. The low rumble abruptly ceased the moment he stepped through the doors, though to his surprise, the group gathered didn't start cheering. Maybe they had finally moved past that. He hoped so. He wasn't a great hero; he was just someone who did the right thing.

The lights dimmed and Steve quickly made his way to the seat that Bucky had saved for him. They were able to exchange a quick smile as he sat before the lights from the film reel flickered to life and Dorothy raced to the farm with Toto at her heels. He hadn't had much time to sit down at watch a film (that wasn't one of his) due to his shooting and tour schedule. It would be nice to watch something that he wasn't involved in.

_ The Wizard of Oz _ was as good as he remembered. He watched, delighted, as the farm house was sucked into the cyclone and Miss Gulch transformed into the Wicked Witch of the West before Dorothy's eyes. When the house dropped from the sky and Dorothy emerged, Steve's face fell in shock. The super soldier experiment had cured his color blindness and he had spent the first month on his tour spending all of his free time in awe of his drawing materials and surroundings. The sheer number of colors… He couldn't have imagined it if he had tried (which he often had). But Oz… _Oz!_ The colors that reached his eyes as Dorothy made her way through Munchkinland were incredible.

"Steve?" Bucky whispered, gently tapping Steve's arm, "What's wrong?"

"I…" Steve whispered back, "I haven't… Is this what it has looked like the whole time?"

Bucky furrowed his brow, "Of course… You've seen this film before…" Steve didn't reply. He was too enthralled with Glinda's pink bubble, "Steve… Did this super soldier thing cure your color blindness?" Bucky asked, shock dripping from his every word.

"It cured everything, Buck." Steve whispered back. Surely he had told Bucky that...

"Entirely? You see everything normal?" Steve opened his mouth to answer, but the words caught in his throat as the Wicked Witch of the East's ruby slipper clad feet appeared on the screen. Bucky couldn't help but smile at the look of wonder on Steve's face, "Steve… Are you okay?" He nodded silently, his amazement causing him to barely notice Bucky squeezing his arm affectionately before pulling away.

Steve spent the rest of the film taking in every single color he could. From the Wicked Witch of the West's green skin and red smoke to the yellow brick road to the many greens of the Emerald City to the Horse of a Different Color to the Witch's castle… Steve thanked heaven for his new Super Soldier memory. Replaying the images in his head later would be a pleasure that he had never experienced.

As the film ended and the lights on the ceiling brightened, Steve sat back and quietly processed everything that he had seen. Bucky sat beside him, shooing away questions and stares. They sat there for ten minutes after the last man had filed out, Steve staring into space and running different scenes in his head while Bucky patiently wanted for him. After those ten minutes, Steve shook his head slightly, eyes widening in shock when he realized that the room was empty.

"How… How long have we been sitting here?" Steve asked.

"Ten minutes?" Bucky replied, unsure. He looked up to the clock on the far wall, "Yeah. Ten minutes."

"You didn't have to wait," Steve said sheepishly, "It's late. We have a lot to do tomorrow."

Bucky's eyes narrowed, his expression telling Steve that that was one of the dumbest things he'd ever heard, "Which is why _we_ should be heading to our room." Steve nodded and stood, "So…" Bucky continued as they walked out of the mess hall towards their room, "The color blindness is gone?"

"Yes." Steve replied with a smile.

"And everything else?" Bucky asked, "The pain, the asthma, your high blood pressure…"

"Yes, Buck." Steve said with slight exasperation in his tone, effectively cutting him off. If Bucky planned on listing off all of Steve's former ailments, they would be awake all night.

They made their way quietly through the mostly silent corridor, only the sounds of the soldiers preparing for bed filtering out of the rooms. Entering their private room –a room that they were both sure was _supposed_ to be for higher ranking officers or visitors to the barracks, thus making them feel rather awkward about using it- Steve and Bucky quickly went about preparing to sleep. As Bucky brushed his teeth, a daily requirement for all members of the Army, another thought hit him, "Even your flat feet?" He asked.

Steve sighed, though it was more of a laugh, sitting on his bed and pulling off his boots and socks. Extending his feet towards Bucky, who had finished rinsing his mouth and was storing his toothbrush in his pack, Steve replied, "Even my flat feet."

Leaning closer, Bucky merely whispered, "Wow…" as he stared at the newly raised arch on Steve's foot. After a moment, Bucky –with a wicked smirk on his face- asked, "Are you still ticklish?"

Eyes widening, Steve immediately protested, "Bucky, n…"

Despite lacking super soldier speed, Bucky took advantage of Steve's shock and grasped at his ankle, tickling the new arch. Steve yelped and tried to pull away, pulling Bucky off of his feet onto the bed, his ribs forced into Steve's strong knee, "Ow…" Bucky moaned through half-laughs and coughing as he tried to catch his breath.

"Don't do that…" Steve groaned, helping Bucky sit up, "I could have really hurt you, I'm a lot stronger now and all I've ever really used it for was lifting the girls on the motorcycle over my head… I'm still getting used to it…"

"For the look on your face," Bucky said, still breathless, "and the knowledge that you're still ticklish, it was worth it."

Steve rolled his eyes, "Jerk…"

"Punk." Bucky replied instinctively. Steve laughed, thrilled that after their months apart, they immediately fell into their old habits. Bucky chuckled gently in response, leaning forward and taking several deep breaths. Their physical closeness became obvious to both when he looked up. Steve prepared to lean in, as he had done so many times, and softly kiss Bucky's lips. A panicked expression crossed Bucky's face and he shot up from the bed and practically ran across the room, stumbling due to the lack of oxygen in his lungs and the pain in his ribs, "I'm… ah… I'm really happy for you, buddy." He said awkwardly. Steve didn't like it… Bucky was never awkward. He was always calm and cool and collected… This uncomfortable Bucky was all wrong, "I'm glad that all your, uh… All your illness and pain are gone… It couldn't have happened to a better guy."

Sighing, Steve stood. He knew exactly where Bucky's mind was. It was now or never, it seemed, "Bucky…" He began, taking two steps closer. Bucky liked like he wanted to bolt out the door; Steve had never, _ever_ seen Bucky like that before and it broke his heart, "Bucky, Dr. Erskine's experiment cured all of my illnesses…"

"I know, Steve, you just said that…" Bucky interrupted with a groan.

Walking closer, Steve continued, "But… The thing is… It didn't change how I feel. About you."

Bucky stared for a moment, clearly trying to form a response, "But… That's… That's not possible. It can't be. You're confusing being my friend with…"

"Bucky!" Steve shot back, frustrated, "I'm not." He sighed heavily and lowered his voice, "You and I have had plenty of friends that we haven't felt this way about. And I would still much prefer watching _The Maltese Falcon_ to see Humphrey Bogart instead of Mary Astor or Gladys George."

Running his hands through his hair nervously, Bucky whispered, "But… How? How is that possible?"

"I have thought a lot about that. I had a lot of free time on the road, traveling for the show…" Steve replied, "I believe it didn't cure me… Because there is nothing to cure."

"What are you talking about?"

"I think there is nothing to cure." Steve repeated, continuing closer, "I don't think that we're sick. I think the doctors and the churches and everybody else has it wrong."

"What?" Bucky asked, shocked, "How?"

"Well…" Steve began, "Doctors aren't always right. They don't really use leeches anymore, do they? Because they realized that the leeches don't do what they thought? And maybe everyone is just mistaken because they don't understand. They get scared because they don't know any better."

Sighing, Bucky turned on his heel and paced back and forth across the room for several moments. Steve stayed silent as he processed all of the information he had been given, "So… You're saying…" Bucky asked harshly, closing all but six inches of space between them and looking Steve directly in the eye, "That… We're… Okay? We're not sick?"

"Yes, Bucky." Steve responded, hoping that he sounded assuring, "That's what I'm saying. We're not sick. There is nothing to cure." There were tears welling in Bucky's eyes and Steve wanted nothing more than to wipe them away and tell him that everything would be okay.

Taking a deep, shuttering breath, Bucky asked, "Have you told anyone."

Shaking his head, Steve replied, "No. It wasn't something I wanted to talk to anyone on the tour about. But… I think Agent Carter might have an idea. Or, at least, she might have when I was on the base, before the experiment. We didn't sit around having long, heart-felt conversations, but you might have come up once or twice. She's a very perceptive woman."

"Seems like it," Bucky said tiredly, rubbing his face with both hands and sinking onto his bed, "Are you going to tell anyone?"

Steve sat down next to Bucky, careful to give him enough space, and said, "I hadn't really thought much about it. I was on tour and didn't _want_ to tell anyone. I was just a piece of propaganda, who would have believed me anyway? But… If we accomplish this mission… If we get rid of Schmidt and Hydra… I think people would be more willing to listen. Maybe that can be our next mission. Once the war is over, you and I can get to work letting everyone know the truth and start making things better for people like us."

The thought was almost too much for Bucky, who let out a strangled laugh, "Yes…" He said, taking a breath, "I would like that."

"Bucky…" Steve said carefully, looking Bucky directly in the eye, "I love you."

As another sigh heaved from his throat, Bucky replied, "I love you, too, Steve." Leaning in, he pressed his lips to Steve's. Their mouths formed perfectly to the other, as they always had. This was right, this was good; it was just as they had felt it was supposed to be. Steve's realization thanks to Dr. Erskine's experiment was merely the confirmation that they had so desperately wanted. Pulling away, Bucky added, "We need keep quiet. This isn't something we can explain to the General without getting kicked out."

"I know." Steve agreed sadly, "And once we head out, we have eight months before our R&R leave."

"We'll have to make the most of those two weeks, then." Bucky said, "And until then…" He pressed his lips to Steve's once more, "That will have to do."

Chuckling, Steve replied, "I don't think we will be able to do that in the trenches."

"Then it will have to be enough for now." Bucky said, the bitterness in his voice barely veiled.

Nodding, Steve pulled Bucky in for one more kiss before concurring, "For now."

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This was inspired by a post on tumblr that I have lost track of. Someone (I'm not sure who, I can't remember the name) posted about Steve realizing that he and Bucky weren't 'sick' because of their feelings for each other (as would have been the popular opinion in the 1940s) because he was cured of all of his illnesses when he underwent the super soldier experiment. I hope I did justice to the post and if the original poster ever sees this, thank you! It was a wonderful idea and I very much hope that you enjoyed this.
> 
> Another Author's Note: So, fun fact that I learned while writing this: most Americans didn't brush their teeth regularly until soldiers from WWII came back with the habit, because it was an enforced requirement that all soldiers brush their teeth daily. The things you learn trying to make fanfiction factually, historically accurate!


End file.
